


Fifty Years Too Old

by michaelLemieux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: season 10ish i think, trigger warning for suicidal thoughts, wrote this a long ass time ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:17:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelLemieux/pseuds/michaelLemieux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a bottle and a half of whiskey, but Dean confesses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifty Years Too Old

“Sammy, I shouldn’t be alive.” It’s taken a bottle and a half of whiskey to get that confession to fall from Dean’s lips, and he’s slumped over the couch at the wall of the bunker, half asleep, Sam thinks, and so so tired. 

“I should’ve died. Saving those kids.. should’ve died..” 

It’s a jolt that reminds Sam of what Dean’s talking about. It was so many years ago. Ten, if Sam’s right. The electrocution from the tazer, and the heart failure. Dean had looked so weak. Sam looked almost as bad by the time he’d found the solution. No sleep, and worrying over Dean. They’d had matching bags under their eyes, though Dean’s had been graver. 

‘Nurses weren’t even hot,’ that had been Dean’s excuse. Sam knew then, and he knows still, that it was only because Dean was really scared. He wanted to be with Sam until the end. Until his end. 

“Why couldn’t you just let me die then? I was ready then. I’ve fucked everything up so much since then,” Dean laments. 

“None of  this would have happened to us, if I had just died. Instead I’ve been rotting away for fifty years..” 

It hits Sam again that Dean’s counting his years in Hell. Years that might not have happened if Sam hadn’t been selfish enough to save Dean. 

“This isn’t going to help anyone, Dean,” he says coldly. Thinking about ‘what if’s and ‘could have been’s never work out. 

“It would’ve fixed this, Sammy, would have stopped everything. The seals, the apocalypse.. all of it… Never shoulda gone back to you, never shoulda taken you with me to find Dad, I screwed us both, and now we’re both cursed.” 

Sam shakes his head and walks over to dean, taking the bottle from him and pulling his brother to his feet. 

“Time for bed, Dean. You drank too much.” 

“Can’t drink enough,” Dean slurs back at him. “Can’t burn it off, either. I tried.” 

Sam isn’t sure what that last bit means, but he’s determined not to think about it. Dean’s always been like that. A lightning rod, taking all the damage for everything. He’s been doing it so long, he doesn’t know what to do without something to protect. It’s his last instinct and it’s killing him. 

“This has gotta stop, Dean. You can’t keep doing this,” Sam whispers. 

“I know, Sammy. I know. But you’re all that’s left. Cas is too proud, Kevin’s dead, so is everyone else. No one will take me, Sammy. I can’t.. I can’t let you die, cause we got work to do. Work to do, Sammy, can’t do it without you, still in my head, you know? It’s our duty, hundred years.” Dean sighs and stumbles. “Hundred years and I broke in thirty. I’m sorry, Sammy, I’m sorry, shoulda just stayed dead.” 

Dean’s sobbing now, Sam can tell, but they’re at Dean’s room, and Sam never could stomach the sound of Dean falling apart. He drops his brother onto the memory foam mattress, and clicks off the lights, throwing his brother into darkness again and leaving the room. 

They can’t keep doing this. They just can’t. 


End file.
